


The Prince of the Winter Woods

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robin Hood, F/M, Jon is Mormont's bastard, Ramsay is his own warning, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-02 17:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13323420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: After being captured while fighting with Robb in Essos, Jon Snow, bastard son of Jeor Mormont is sent back to Westeros by Daenerys Stormborn after a deal is struck with his father.But the North is not what Jon left behind. His father has been murdered and Ramsay Bolton is terrorising the people of the North with his brutish practices of hunting and flaying. And the Starks are scattered, only Sansa remains at Winterfell now.Jon won't let Robb down, even if he has to raise a rebel group of Wildlings to fight Ramsay. He will reclaim the North for Robb. For Arya, Bran and Rickon. And, for Sansa, the only woman he ever wanted but couldn't have.Robin Hood AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Titania_Queen_of_the_Fairies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titania_Queen_of_the_Fairies/gifts).



> Sooo yeah this happened.  
> Stop giving me WIPs people! lol  
> Anyways, this is going to be a mix of all the Robin Hood legends although it is mostly Prince of Thieves based. Of course, things have been changed to suit the ASoIaF world so nothing is going to be exactly the same.  
> And yeah that is about it lol

“Wake up!”

Jon stirred, his eyes adjusting to the sudden torchlight that greeted him. He hadn’t been asleep, it was impossible to fall asleep in these dungeons with their cold walls and damp smell. The chains around his wrists, behind his back hardly helped either.

The man had been the same one who had put him in this cell, however long ago that was. Jon had long stopped counting the days. The guard wore black armour, his arms totally uncovered. His dark eyes were glittering in the torchlight as he lifted it higher to see Jon’s frame.

He blinked up at the man in the doorway, swallowing thickly. This may be the day he was tortured he thought dully. He tried to mentally prepare, think of the worst they could possibly do and what he could say that wouldn’t hurt Robb’s campaign and his friends. He wasn’t a fool, he knew he was a strong man but torture can break anyone.

“You are to be freed,” the man said moving to unchain him. Jon blinked.

“Freed?” he questioned even as he shifted forward to allow the man to take the chains from the wall. He was helped to his feet, his hands still bound behind his back as he was led out of the cell.

“Somebody has paid your ransom,” the man muttered.

His first thought was Robb, the King in the North and someone that Jon had come to think of as a brother. Jon had followed him across the Narrow Sea on his quest to prevent the growing Targayen forces. Rumour was that the Targaryens were planning to come and conquer Westeros and Robb was not going to let them come and take his Kingdom, planning to crush the armies before they had a chance to come across the water.

But he had been captured in battle hundreds of miles from Robb, having split the forces to target different cities in the attempt of breaking the Targaryen’s strongest bases. Even if Robb had found out that Jon had been captured, he wouldn’t have time to get money together to pay the ransom.

“You are to be brought to Queen Daenerys first,” the man continued, urging Jon up the stairs from the dungeon. Jon stumbled slightly as he made his way, unused to walking now. The man gripped him by the shoulder, guiding him up the stairs and along the corridor. Jon’s wrists twitched against the chains and he winced at how raw the skin was there. He hadn’t even been moving them much lately, ever since they had begun to bleed from his early struggles.

He waited with the guard as the doors opened and Jon had to bite back a dark chuckle. The room wasn’t dark or dull, the natural light from the windows actually gave a nice feel to it. But he was a little underwhelmed at it all. The lack of decorations reminded him of the halls of Winterfell, when he had been a ward to Ned Stark, growing up amongst his children. It was just not what he had expected from the stories he had heard of Daenerys. He had expected more extravagance, something to match the rumours of her grandeur.

She at least looked like a Queen, he thought as he regarded her on her throne, situated on top of the staircase in order for her to observe everything. The way she held herself certainly spoke of confidence in her right to be where she was.

“Jon Snow?” she questioned, settling her hands in her lap as she watched her guard step away from him, leaving him in the centre of the room.

His eyes darted to the left and he felt as though a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him as he met the dark eyes of his brother, Jorah. He had thought him dead, all the family had thought him to be dead. Or as good as. He had been driven from their home after Ned Stark had found him to be engaging in the slave trade. Their father had been ashamed of him and sent him away, naming Jon his heir instead. Jon had never intentionally set out to usurp Jorah from his rightful place but Jorah had unsurprisingly been angry and upset at the news.

They had never seen each other since, not even sent a letter to each other.

Jon had never felt much like a Lord. He had always accepted that he was the bastard son, not born to inherit anything and lucky to be accepted into the home of his father. He wondered briefly, had Joer’s wife lived to see Jon born, if she would have been so welcoming as the rest of the Mormont family. Joer had loved him well enough and had always treated him like a trueborn son.

“You recognise this man?” Daenerys asked, turning to look at Jorah and then back to Jon.

“Yes,” Jon replied hoarsely. He felt his lips twitch at the thick black beard that Jorah had grown, the balding head. He looked like father, Jon thought then, though he lacked Joer’s kind eyes at this moment as he stared at Jon impassively.

“He is my brother,” Jon added after a moment of Daenerys’ impatient stare.

“Half brother,” Jorah corrected instantly with the same cold stare. Jon’s throat bobbed at the slight, eyes looking back to Daenerys instead.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” he began, going for flattery to win her around. “I was told I was to be freed? Has my brother paid my ransom for me?”

“No,” Daenerys replied after a moment, her hand outstretched towards the young girl at her side who handed her a scroll. “No, it was your father actually. I agreed to send you home to him on the condition that he convinced Robb Stark to lift all charges of treason against Jorah. And, it would appear that your life meant more to Robb Stark than my advisor’s past discrepancies.”

Jon looked to Jorah again though he had no idea why he had hoped to see some sort of feeling in his brother’s face. He had tried to be loyal to Jorah, had done everything to ensure he was never taking from the true-born son. It wasn’t his fault that Joer had chosen him, wasn’t his fault Jorah had done what he had and was made to face the consequences decreed by the laws of the North.

Daenerys lifted her chin and nodded to the guard behind Jon, who grasped the chains at his back. In a second, his wrists were free and he instantly brought his arms back to the front of him, rubbing each wrist in turn.

“You are to return to Westeros,” Daenerys stated coolly. “And if you ever come back, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“And Robb?” Jon asked. “What of him and his army?”

“This is war Jon Snow,” Daenerys replied. “What happens to Robb Stark depends on his own tactics.”

“I won’t leave him,” Jon snarled, taking a step towards her. The guards at the wall moved suddenly, spears pointing threateningly towards him. He stepped back again and raised his hands, continuing in a gentler tone. “He is my King, a brother to me.”

“You are going home Jon Snow,” she repeated firmly. “It was an agreement and I intend to uphold it. If you will not seek a way yourself, my guards will escort you to the harbour themselves and put you on the first boat going to Westeros. I only said you were going home, I never promised it had to be in one piece.”

Jon felt himself growl, casting another look at his brother. He could tell Daenerys was a woman who would not hesitate to strike with violence if need be. And he had no intention of fighting the guards in this room.

If he went back to Westeros, he could still be of use to Robb, he thought. He could go back to Winterfell and make sure that Robb’s siblings were well and protected. He could help train Bran and Rickon, even Arya as she would never let herself be left out. They would be as overjoyed to see him as he would be to see them.

And then there was Sansa.

He wondered if she had married by now. He had never asked Robb about her and Robb had never said anything about her either. Jon had never wanted to know. Not since he had heard about Ned Stark’s arranged betrothal for her, how he had all but trashed his room at the knowledge that she was leaving, was being _taken_ from him. Even though she wasn’t his, had never been his.

Robb had always been sympathetic since Jon had confessed his love for Sansa after a particularly drunken night involving sweet wine. Robb had never said it but he hadn’t needed to, the words had followed Jon his whole life.

A bastard, even an honourable one, could never marry a high-born lady like Sansa.

He had thought, perhaps, she might have held some affection for him. Sometimes, she would look at him and when Jon met her eyes, he felt as though there was something simmering there. She would smile and duck her head away, making Jon ache to hold her. But whatever affection Sansa may have had for him, it had not stopped her accepting the betrothal her father had made for her.

Jon had left for home the next morning. He had never been back to Winterfell since, hadn’t left Bear Island again until Robb called the banners. Part of him hoped Sansa was married and no longer there, no longer there to taunt him with what he couldn’t have but so desperately wants. But the other part of him thinks of how sweet it would be to see her again.


	2. Homeward Bound

Jon sighed longingly into the salty night air as he stood on the deck, staring out at the Westeros coastline. They were approaching Oldtown, a longer journey than Jon would have liked. Yet, he knew he had little choice in where the crew were to stop en route to Bear Island.

At least Daenerys had been true to her word and ensured the men on the ship took Jon home. They just hadn’t promised a direct arrival.

He closed his eyes, relishing the wind through his hair and the harsh splash of the sea on his cheeks. He wondered what his father would do or say when Jon arrived home only for his beloved son to tell him that he wished to return to Winterfell once more.  Would his father tell him what had become of the Starks, of Sansa?

He opened his eyes once more, bracing his hands on the side of the ship and peering over at the sea, listening to the waves crash against them, relishing the comforting rocking as they moved. The sun was setting across the way, the sky painted an orange gold, a path coated across the surface of the sea.

_I loved a maid as red as autumn with sunset in her hair._

He scowled, remembering the singer who had come to Winterfell once for Sansa’s one and tenth name day. She had become obsessed with  _Seasons_   _of my Love_ , her bell-like voice echoing through the stone corridors of Winterfell for weeks afterwards.

And when her aunt had visited from The Vale three years later, Ned Stark had ordered another singer to perform at the feast that Catelyn had planned for her sister’s visit. Sansa had come to him, her hair done in an elaborate southern style, her dress made of blue silk that Jon’s fingers couldn’t help but stroke as she tugged him into dancing to  _The Bear and the Maiden Fair._

And then they had stood opposite each other self-consciously as it changed into  _Seasons of my Love_ , and Jon could only remember awkwardly bowing and leaving the hall for the rest of the night. Dancing with Sansa was not a problem, he was allowed to do so. Ned and Catelyn had treated him as well as their own children. But he feared if he were to dance to such a tune, the whole of Winterfell would see how much he wanted her, how much he had always wanted her.

She had been so happy, he remembered. Sansa had always been one to admire the beauty in life, to find happiness in the smallest of things, especially a tray of lemon cakes that Robb and Jon used to sneak from the kitchens for her.

He wished he had stayed in Winterfell now. He wished he had at least went back when he had heard of Ned’s death and then Catelyn’s. But he had been a coward, sending his condolences by raven along with his father’s.

Sansa probably hated him, he thought grimly. And he couldn’t blame her.

“Boy!”

Jon turned at the voice, frowning when his eyes fell upon a redheaded man who was beckoning him over with his rope bound hands.

“I’m not a boy,” Jon snapped, turning away once more.

The slaves had been on the ship for as long as Jon had yet he had kept his distance, less he incur the captain’s wrath. He glanced around as he heard the man chuckle.

“Sorry, just, it doesn’t seem like you’ve known a woman,” the man quipped. He raised his eyebrows. “Or a man, if that is what you prefer.”

“You’re going to get us both in trouble,” Jon hissed, deliberately keeping his eyes on the horizon.

“I would say I was already in trouble,” the prisoner replied, holding his binds up mockingly when Jon gave in and glanced at him.

“What do you want?” Jon sighed, looking around them once more.

“Just being friendly is all,” the man said with a shrug. “Tormund Giantsbane. I would shake your hand but…” he trailed off, shaking the rope for emphasis.

“Jon Snow.”

“Well, Jon Snow,” Tormund stated with a grin. “Here’s to many more starlit nights in each other’s company.”

“I guess we have to make do with what we have,” Jon joked, feeling more at ease as Tormund chortled.

“I like you boy.”

***

Thankfully, they did not stay long in Oldtown.

Within a day, the ship was loaded with supplies, the trades were done and they were once more on their way.

Jon had barely spoken to Tormund over the passing days, with the ship’s crew bustling above deck more often than normal he had been far more careful in his interactions. Jon can’t deny that the idea of a companion on this long journey is welcome. The crew were predominantly working on Daenerys’ orders and as such leaving him be. So, despite often ending up agitated and insulted, the moments he does have with Tormund has brightened up the days.

They were approaching the Iron Islands when the storm hit.

The waves were rising high enough to crash over the sides of the ship, covering the crew and cargo in freezing, salty water that left them sliding across the deck as the ship rocked.

“Boy!”

Jon turned, shaking the wet hair from his face and wiping the salty taste from his lips with the back of his hand. He looked at Tormund, huddled in the corner and outstretching his hands towards him with a pleading expression.

“Help me!”

Jon glanced around, his lip curling in disgust at the way the rain dripped down the back of his neck and into his already soaked clothes. Another wave crashed over the surface and Jon barely had time to grab onto the mast in support to stop himself being swept to the other side of the ship.

Jon cursed as he pushed himself up to a stand. He gripped the sides of the ship, peering out at the sea. The Iron Islands were so close, if he could steer the ship…

He turned quickly and knelt in front of the bound man. He pulled at the ropes, glancing nervously around to see if anyone was watching him. He leapt back to his feet once Tormund’s hands sprung free, and he raced up the stairs, sliding slightly from the water, until he reached the wheel.

“Hold on!” Jon yelled over the wind, pulling on the wheel with all his strength. “I’m going to crash the boat into land. Be prepared to toss the ladder down!”

Tormund nodded, running to unfold the ladder. Jon gripped the wheel tightly, his body tense with apprehension as the ship sailed towards the coast.

The impact was harder than he had imagined, the force sending him lurching forward. He winced as the wood rammed against his chest before he managed to pull away. He tore down the stairs to where Tormund was already crawling over the side and gripping the ladder.

“Hey! What are you doing?” a crewman yelled. Jon leapt up onto the side, reaching for the ladder.

Once at the bottom, he scrambled over the rocks, Tormund following close behind. He glanced back, watching the men come and gawk over the side to watch him disappear. They wouldn’t follow them, he knew. For one, he was nothing to them. They only had to return him to Westeros and they had, really. And Tormund was only one slave to them.

“Thank you for helping me,” Tormund said once they had found an abandoned stable to sleep in. Jon shrugged.

“I wasn’t going to let you drown,” he replied simply. It was not a death he would wish on anyone.

“You saved my life,” Tormund insisted. “So, I will go with you, until my debt is paid.”

“It will be a long time,” Jon warned him, scowling at the roof when he felt, let alone heard, his stomach grumble. He sighed, pulling his hands under his head. “I must first go to Bear Island to see my father. And then I will go to Winterfell.”

“Best be getting some sleep then,” Tormund stated simply. Jon grunted.

Outside, the storm was calming at last, the rain was a mere drizzle now and the wind was quietening. He thought of Winterfell, how all the Starks would huddle together for warmth when it got colder. How Sansa had feared the thunder and used to seek out Robb or himself for comfort.

Soon, he thought, his heart racing with elation and anxiousness. Soon, I will see her again.


End file.
